


You Pull Me In

by mercscilla



Category: The Last Ship (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode s01e08
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2152797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercscilla/pseuds/mercscilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He seeks her out to give her a piece of his mind but ends up giving her something entirely else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I was going to wait till the season ends before writing anything for this couple but then 1x08 happened and the whole fandom kinda exploded and is now flailing all over the place and so am I. Whatever happens next, we will always have that kiss.

Tom finds her in the hanger, already working again. To anyone else she may look calm and collected but he can see the tiny tremors in her hands and the way she tenses whenever there's a loud noise. If he wasn't so goddamn angry with her, he would admire her bravery and the loyalty it inspired in Green, Buck, hell even in Mike, as they took her side and defended her decision.

“Give us the room, would you?” He tells the guards, and they nod before escorting Dr. Tophet and his family out of the hanger, the doctor sending him a grateful look on his way out.

A tense silence settles over the room, only disturbed by the clicking of vials and the humming of the machines. Leaning against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest, Tom waits and watches, but Dr. Scott doesn't acknowledge him at all, continues to work instead, and he has to give it to her – she isn't intimidated by his tactic in the least. It only fuels the anger churning in his chest and he's unable to keep silent any longer. 

“Didn't I tell you not to do it again?” His words and tone are hard, sharp-edged, and she falters for a moment before plucking up her courage.

“I'm not sorry,” she says quietly, a note of strength underneath her words, and it's the last straw for him, the anger that's bubbling just below the surface boiling over.

“What the hell were you thinking? What if—”

“Ruskov had to be stopped,” she rounds on him, her voice no longer soft but just as hard as his, just as sharp. “By any means necessary.”

“ _By any means..._ ” He's been angry at her before, but not like this, not with such fervor, and Tom feels a flicker of dark satisfaction as her eyes widen as he advances on her, invading her personal space until she has to tilt her head back to maintain eye-contact.

“Not by sacrificing yourself.” His voice is low and heated, but there's no fear in her eyes as she glares up at him defiantly.

“Oh, don't be so melodramatic,” she snaps, eyes alight with a fire that's been missing since he found her in that lab back on Ruskov's ship. “If it wasn't for me, the whole plan would have failed, and you know it!”

Anger, frustration and something else clashes in his chest, and he's reaching for her before he knows what he's doing, his hands gripping her arms, and it's only when he hears her breath hitch and catches a flash of something in her dark eyes that he realizes what he's done.

It's the moment on Ruskov's ship all over again, only their roles reversed, this time his fingers pressing almost possessively against her skin in the same way she gripped the back of his neck when they'd kissed.

The air between them is no longer heavy with anger and frustration but with something else, something electric that presses down on them and leaves him on the edge. Everything inside him tells him to let her go and put some distance between them, he can see the same struggle taking place inside her, _because this isn't them_ , but something keeps him rooted to the spot and instead of moving away, he leans down.

Tom hears her exhale shakily and her hand comes up, her fingers curling tight into the fabric of his t-shirt, nails pressing slightly into his skin, and then he's pushing her back against the table as his mouth slants hard over hers.

She kisses him back, without hesitation, her hand sliding up his chest to the back of his neck again and his skin comes alive under her touch. He entwines his fingers tight in her hair, pulls her closer, and she moans softly, arching into him.

The door suddenly opens, the sound jarring them back to reality, and they break apart so fast she has to grip the table to steady herself. The maelstrom of emotions that's surging through him is mirrored on her face and he has a hard time getting his mind and body back under control.

“Captain?” Mike's voice sounds warily from the doorway, and Tom clenches his fists involuntarily. Of all the people...

“Yes?”

“Ah, Rios needs Dr. Scott's help.”

The woman in question starts as if it never occurred to her that Mike might be here for her but she quickly composes herself and gives Mike a half-hearted smile.

“Of course.” She taps a few times on her tablet before walking towards the door and as she does, their eyes meet for a split second and there's a tight feeling rising in his chest as Tom realizes that whatever is happening between them started long before the kiss, probably the day he demanded the truth from her, and that it's far from over.

Sighing, he drags his fingers through his hair. Maybe if his capture and her coming to his rescue had never happened, they could have pretended that nothing was slowly building up between them, and one day, they might have actually believed it, but now they can't fool themselves any longer.

_Goddamn it._

\- TBC -


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here it is. The continuation of what was supposed to be a one-shot but so many people asked for more. Thank you all for the support and reviews. It really means a lot to me and I hope I won't disappoint you. *flails* We will see where it goes... :)
> 
> From Rachel's video blogs posted by TNT we know she has a boyfriend but as far as I know we haven't gotten a name yet. I decided to go with Brian for now.

She's in sick bay, sorting through the ship's medical supply and picking what they might need for the upcoming trail, when she hears the door opening behind her and turns around to face the person entering.

“Doctor Rios, you're already—” She freezes, pausing mid-sentence.

“Doctor.”

“Captain.” Her voice doesn't quiver, and she's proud of that.

He steps across the threshold and closes the door and suddenly the room seems to shrink. She's all too aware of the man across from her, his presence almost overwhelming, and memories of what has transpired between them earlier spring unbidden into her mind as she meets his eyes accidentally. She feels herself flushing slightly and hastily takes a step back to put some distance between them but ends up bumping against the examination table.

Her only comfort is that she's not the only one affected. He may appear to the world as the unmoved and impassive captain but Rachel sees beyond the mask, sees the turmoil reflected in his eyes and the tense set of his shoulders, so subtly she's sure she's been the only one noticing.

“I came to apologize,” he finally says.

“You don't—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupts, his eyes are dark as he watches her, and there's something in his expression, a look she can’t place. “Because I don't want to lose your respect and trust.”

“You could _never_ lose it.” The words are out before she realizes she's speaking, but they're true nonetheless, and the captain seems to understand too that she really means it, his posture relaxing slightly.

“You love your wife,” she continues.

“And you love Brian.”

“Yes. And neither of us would ever do something to hurt them or jeopardize the relationships we have with them. What...” She hesitates, trying to choose the right words. “What happened in the lab was the result of too much emotional stress. Even the strongest break at one point.”

She meets his gaze and holds it for a moment, letting her words sink in, and after a heartbeat, the captain ducks his head, giving her a little smile, one that's rueful around the edges, and her own lips twitch lightly in response, and somehow that breaks the ice, the air between them no longer tense and weighted.

“We make quite the pair.” He hakes his head, laughing a little. “We can face terrorists, the Russians and a deadly virus, but as soon as we have to deal with feelings, we lose the battle.”

“We're only human after all.” Rachel gives him a pointed look before returning to the supplies spread out on the table.

She hears him crossing the room and coming to a halt next to her. His arm brushes hers as he reaches for her wrist, the warmth of his skin drawing her in, and she fights the urge to shiver. There's a heavy and aching weight settling in her heart as she realizes something.

“Are we okay?” His eyes searches her face as she looks at him, and somehow, she manages to dredge up a smile from somewhere, one that feels misplaced on her face because the last thing she feels like is smiling and she's sure he's seeing straight through it, but his own small smile doesn't waver.

“Yes, captain, we are.” Once again, she marvels at the steadiness of her voice.

He gives her wrist a light squeeze before letting go and walking back towards the door. “I'll see you later in the briefing room?”

“Of course.”

He nods, opens the door and leaves. The moment she's alone again, she takes a deep breath and braces herself on the table.

A fool, that's what she is. Since the day she'd come clean and told him the truth about the virus, there's been that spark of connection between them, and no matter what she tries to tell herself, it's goes far deeper than simple trust and respect.

She loves Brian, trusts and respects him, but the thought of him being exposed to the virus hadn't been enough to put her own life on the line and rescue him. But all it'd taken had been the thought of the captain in Ruskov's hands and she'd offered herself in exchange for him.

She hadn't made the decision with her mind, she had made it with her heart.

With a sigh, she resumes sorting through the supplies, deliberately pushing the realization to the back of her mind. The last thing she wants, the last thing the world needs right now, is an upsetting of the status quo they've just reestablished, _his_ trust and respect mean just as much to her, and if she has to bury her growing feelings for a man to whom honor means everything to make sure it doesn't get upturned, she will do so.

\- TBC -


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm sorry you had to wait so long but RL has kept be busy and it was only the last and this weekend when I found time to write. Let's hope the next chapter won't take so long. :D

When he walks into the hanger and sees her on the other side of the room, there's a tingling sense of déjà vu swirling in the air, a memory of blazing dark eyes and warm skin under his hands, but Tom quickly forces it out of his mind, ignoring the sudden twist of his heart.

If Dr. Scott can leave the kiss behind and move on with just a small embarrassed smile, so can he.

Crew members are moving back and forth, setting up cots and machines for the upcoming trial, and she's in the middle of it all, the calm center of the stormy sea, clipboard in one hand while directing with a firm but gentle voice, and he really should stop looking at her as if she's _his_ center in this new, chaotic world.

“Don't worry, commodore, she's not gonna disappear all of the sudden.”

At the sound of the voice, Tom finally manages to tear his eyes away, just in time to see Tex shooting him a grin that's all teeth before setting down the box he's been carrying to step up next to him. “Teleportation isn't one of her superpowers.”

“It's not?” Tom asks lightly, careful not to show how startled he is by Tex's sudden appearance, too caught up in his thoughts to notice anything but her.

“Nah, her powers are a different caliber altogether,” Tex says quietly, his expression going from amused to something else, something full of longing, and suddenly, Tom is painfully reminded of the fact that he's not the only one gravitating around the doctor.

Something sticks in his ribs at the sight of Tex looking at her as if she's hung the moon, a bitter taste of jealousy on the back of his tongue, and his hands curl into fists at his sides as he tells himself that he's got no right to feel like that.

Dr. Scott spots them eventually and murmurs something to Rios before making her way over to them, her lips curling up in a tired but genuine smile. He can't tell if it's directed at Tex or himself, and he really shouldn't care, but as she comes closer, it's his eyes she meets, and there it is again, that little skipping sensation in his chest.

“Captain.”

“Doctor,” he greets her, forcing himself to keep his tone even. “How's the set-up coming?”

“It's almost finished,” she says, sounding proud, nervous and hopeful all at once. “We're ready to start looking for volunteers.”

“I was informed you've already found your first,” he says, raising one eyebrow.

There's a beat and then two before she sighs. “Tex, would you give us a moment, please?” 

Tex glances from Dr. Scott to Tom, his expression speculative, and Tom almost expects him to ask what's this is all about, but then Tex just shrugs. “Sure thing, doc,” he says, touching the brim of his cap before walking away.

“I was wondering when the Master Chief was going to tell you,” she says once Tex is out of earshot. “I asked him to talk to you first but he insisted, and after it was clear he qualified...” Her voice trails off, and Tom can see she's equally sorry for going behind his back but at the same time she's thankful to have her first volunteer, and when it comes down to it, that's what counts.

“You've got nothing to apologize for, Doctor,” he says softly, and the stressed expression on her face slowly melts into one of relief. “You and Jeter made the right decision.” There's movement behind her and his gaze is drawn to the containment area where Rios is placing kits on each of the six cots. “Someone had to make the first step after all.”

There's a part of him that insists it should have been him, should have been his call, even though he knows it's ridiculous to feel as if the choice has been taken from him - this isn't a contest, it's about saving the human race, and yet that nagging feeling prowls along the edges of his mind.

“You wanted to volunteer first.” Her voice is low, and he should be probably more surprised how closely her words echo his own thoughts but he's not, not anymore.

He breathes in deeply and rubs the back of his neck before meeting her eyes. “Yes.”

She studies him for a moment before asking, “Do you honestly believe the crew will think you've taken the easy way out?”

 _Yes. No. I don't know._ runs through his mind, and his conflicted thoughts must have been reflected on his face because she shakes her head like she can't quite believe he would think something like that.

“You know they would _never_ think you're a coward,” she says, reaching out and hesitating only a fraction of a second, but long enough for him to notice, before laying her hand on his arm, and even through the layer of his working uniform shirt her touch sends a jolt through him he's barely able to suppress. “If it were up to you, you would be the only one going through the trial, sparing every single man and woman on this ship the suffering, and the crew knows that.”

Her grip tightens on his arm and she takes a step closer, and suddenly he's more conscious of the warmth of her body and the faint scent of the standard Navy soap she's been using. “You're not letting them down because I know, just as they do, once the trial has started you will be right here, from start to end, watching over them, and that's all they need.”

He hadn't known how much he needed to hear those words until now - even more so from someone who isn't under his command, someone who isn't just paying lip service to their captain (even though he knows his crew is far too honest for such insincerity but still), and Rachel Scott would never offer an insincere expression of support to make him feel better.

For the first time since his talk with Mike and Jeter, Tom feels some of the tension release from his shoulders, one corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile, and he covers her hand with his.

It's not an intentional move, it's a pull he can't resist, just like yesterday in sick bay, when he could have simply said something to get her attention but instead had given into the urge and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. It had been the first time he'd touched her since the kiss and he'd hadn't been prepared for the tiny electric shock coursing through his body at the contact. He'd barely been able to keep the smile on his face, everything inside him so focused on her soft and warm skin under his palm, committing it to memory, mind and body alike.

Now, like back then, he has to force himself to draw his hand back before he does something stupid like drawing her towards him but in the last moment his body betrays him, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of her hand before he can stop himself.

She tenses imperceptibly and something flickers behind her eyes, but then she shifts, takes a step back, her hand sliding from his arm, and the moment passes, and if it weren't for the slight tremble of her hand as she grips her clipboard, Tom would think he's imagined the look.

“I should get back to work, captain,” she says, and somehow he knows she's using his rank as a way to keep up the boundaries.

Straightening up, he clasps his hands behind his back and nods. “Of course, doctor. I'll leave you to it.”

He moves to step around her at the same time she turns away, and there's a fleeting moment when their arms brush. Even over the pounding of his own heart he can hear her breath hitch and he quickens his step, never looking back.

It's a tricky status quo, a fragile balance they have, easy to offset. The connection between them is still strong, flaring in unexpected ways when they last expect it, and he's not sure if they'll be ever able to control it.

He's not sure if he even wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments and reviews! They really brighten my days and make me want to write all day long until this story is complete (though so far no real end is in sight). :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is set during 1x09 (after Quincy found Rachel but before she came up with the solution) and I apologize (again) for the long wait but I had to rewrite parts to make it fit into canon but at the same time push my AU-storyline. I hope I didn't mess up too bad. -_-

Somewhere in the back of her mind there's a clock ticking, counting down relentlessly, and with every minutes that goes by without her getting closer to the answer that's hovering just beyond her reach, Rachel feels whatever hope she had left slowly slipping away. It's as if she's coming apart at the seams.

God, what has she done? Because of her, because she overestimated her own capabilities, Maya is dead and the remaining five are slowly but surely losing the fight against the virus.

The crew believed in her and she's failed them all. No one said a word but she could read it in their eyes, the barely hidden despair and pain, the knowledge that it's only a matter of time before it's all over.

The worst though had been the look on the captain's face. Rachel had never seen him so broken, so defeated, unable to help his people, to do anything but watch them suffer. Neither her revelation about the virus nor facing off against Ruskov had brought him to his knees – it had been her failure of saving his people from the virus that finally did it.

Her heart chokes her and Rachel lets her head drop back against the wooden crate behind her, closing her burning eyes for a second to fend off the threatening tears but they escape anyway and she can feel them rolling down her cheeks, stinging her skin.

“Quincy, you're wrong. I'm not the best,” she whispers bitterly, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her jumper.

“Yes, you are.”

Startled, she twists around and her breath catches in her throat as she comes face to face with the last person she expects to see. The captain is standing just a few feet away, leaning against the crate next to the monkey, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes red rimmed but clear as he watches her closely.

“You are the best and you _will_ figure it out.”

His voice is rough but without any hint of doubt or uncertainty, and something twists in her chest. How can he still think she's the best, how can he still believe in her, after everything that has happened?

Rachel doesn't realize she's voiced her thoughts out loud until he shakes his head and scrubs his hand over his face and then back, his expression caught somewhere between frustration and disbelief. She can't tell which is winning out but then it doesn't matter anyway because he's already pushing away from the crate and for one terrifying moment she thinks he's going to leave, her questions having finally shattered the false illusions he had about her, but he's moving towards her instead, a slight tension in his jaw that gets more pronounced with every step he takes. 

“Do you remember what you told me and the crew? That there's absolutely nothing that will stop you until you find the answer?” Pulling out one of the chairs, he sits down and leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees, and she recognizes the determination etched into the lines of his face. “You never gave up back then until you found a vaccine, despite the many set backs you had.”

He gestures at the little monkey. “The little guy there is the proof that it does work. Whatever the reason is why it doesn't work on the six...I know you will figure it out. I know you won't give up until you do. That is why I believe in you.”

She knows she should say something, anything, but all she can do is stare at him, her heartbeat echoing in her ears, a white noise that's drowning everything out but his words and their meaning. It had never been about others thinking she's the best. It had always been about someone believing in her, no matter what, and here is the one person she _needs_ to believe in her telling her exactly that with such utter conviction that she knows he's not just saying it to appease her.

The captain sighs, his shoulders slumping, and he looks even more beaten down than before. Rachel realizes he thinks his words have no effect and her lips part but she still can't say anything, all of her words held back by the heart in her throat. He stands up and straightens his uniform, and she knows she has to do something before it's too late.

Her hand shoots up as he steps past her, her fingers gripping a fistful of his sleeve, and he stops dead in his tracks but doesn't look at her.

“Captain...”

Finally, he meets her eyes, but there's something guarded in his exhausted expression, and she scrambles to find the right words but all her supposedly brilliant mind can come up with is a quiet, “Thank you.”

It seems to take forever, the seconds stretching on as he silently studies her face, but then he nods, his expression softening, and something tells her he understands what she's trying to say, and it feels as if she can breathe again.

Rachel uncurls her fingers from the fabric of his shirt and as she pulls back, the tips of her fingers brush along the back of his hand. It's nothing more than a brief touch, but just like during the set-up for the trial she's caught off-guard by the unexpected contact and has no time to brace herself, and the sensation winds its way down her neck in a slow shiver.

The captain exhales in a hiss through his teeth and she freezes, arrested in place by the hint of something heated darkening his eyes. A tense silence settles over them as they stare at each other for a few long moments, broken every now and then by the quiet chitter of the monkey, and just when Rachel thinks she can't bear it any longer, the captain moves and steps back, and she forces herself to draw her hand back until it's resting on her knees again, her fingers trembling slightly in spite of her efforts to keep calm.

“I'll see you back in the lap?” He asks in a neutral tone, and she knows, the composed front he presents is only skin-deep – just as her is.

“Of course,” she replies in a just as carefully controlled voice, and he inclines his head in acknowledgement before turning around and walking out.

As his footsteps slowly fade away, she rests her head against the crate behind her again and draws in a shaky breath, wondering if it's always going to be like this, the new awareness she has of him taking her by surprise and making it impossible for her to ignore it, no matter how hard she tries. Like water slipping through cracks, their connection always finds a way to sneak past their walls and never fails to remind them that it's still there, still strong.

She sighs and scrubs the backs of her hands over her cheeks where the tear trails are starting to itch. The monkey makes a high-pitched noise, little hands scratching at the walls of his box, and Rachel tilts her head to the side, a wary expression crossing her features.

“You are lucky you're not human and don't have to deal with all—”

The clock in her mind abruptly stops ticking as the connections that had been struggling to form in her brain slowly succeed in joining ends, and just before she loses herself in her mind – already darting here and there and everywhere with renewed energy – she looks down at her hands, rubs her thumb across her still tingling fingertips, and thinks it's a rather ironic twist of fate that their slip-up is the key to solving the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are made of awesome. Your comments and reviews, fav's and kudos, they all helped pushing me to finish this even though I wanted to headdesk several times. xD THANK YOU SO MUCH! ❤


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